Betrayed
by Amber Akasha
Summary: Harry is accused of murder and condemned to Azkban.And even if he dies in that filthy hole,he'll get his revenge on those who backstabbed him. As a specter what remains of his spirit leaves Azkaban with the fall of night to torment those who betrayed him.
1. Prologue

Story: Betrayed

Summary: Harry is accused of murder and condemned to Azkban. And even if he dies in that filthy hole, he'll get his revenge on those who backstabbed him. As a specter what remains ofhis spirit leaves Azkaban with the fall of night to torment those who betrayed him.

The author of the fanfiction is Akasha Sorvolo Riddle. (Yeah, I've got her permission to post it!)

I've translated it from Spanish myself, so there'll probably be some mistakes.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Hope you enjoy it!

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Prologue

Harry stared vacantly at the wall.

It had, a long time ago, been white, he supposed; but it was now dark brown, almost black in some places, almost yellow in others.

When a prisoner has spent enough time in his cell, staring at the wall, he can see accusing, dreadful faces shouting from the filthy stains on it. Sometimes, the same prisoners are the ones to scream, faces contorted in pain and insanity.

He felt cold.

He shouldn't be feeling so cold yet; he had at least two hours until the time at which the dementors used to patrol his side of the prison...hadn't he?

Harry was frozen; it wasn't the cold of the dementors the one that was eating him away; no, this cold didn't only soak his bones but it paralized his very soul. This cold didn't come from the terror-inspiring creatures, but from the proverbial glacial dagger his friends had backstabbed him with.

How could they have believed him capable of committing such a crime?

How could they have abandoned him like that? Testified against him?

How could they condemn him to that gelid hell?

Slowly, painfully slowly, Harry stopped feeling cold.

While he laid numb in his cell's stone floor, caged inside those four walls, the accusing faces turned from his friends' and family's to his, screaming endlessly in despair, and suddenly Harry felt something he never thought he'd feel again.

Heat.

His ire burned inside him, blistering hot. Warming him, giving him his strenght back. Against all those who had betrayed him.

'Against them all' howled Harry, his voice surpassing his own cell and the other prisioners' screams, his lips curved in a feral smirk. Azkaban stayed slient for a moment, as if the prison itself was holding her breath. Not even the most insane prisoners dared to utter a word, as a apprehensive shiver ran through their bodies.

He'd have his revenge, even if it had to be from Azkaban.

There was a reason for which he was condemned.

He was a powerful wizard.

One of the most powerful there had ever been.

They would soon discover why no one should never anger a powerful wizard.

They would soon wish they had never crossed his path.


	2. Sirius Black

Story: Betrayed

Summary: Harry is accused of murder and condemned to Azkban. And even if he dies in that filthy hole, he'll get his revenge on those who backstabbed him. As a specter what remains ofhis spirit leaves Azkaban with the fall of night to torment those who betrayed him.

The author of the fanfiction is Akasha Sorvolo Riddle. (Yeah, I've got her permission to post it!)

I've translated it from Spanish myself, so there'll probably be some mistakes.

Thanks for the reviews! ^.^

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Hope you enjoy it!

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** Sirius Black**

Sirius looked around his bedroom, nervous despite his best attempts not to be so. Every night, since Harry's detention, he'd had the same nightmare. There was nothing he could do to stop the nightmares; dreamless sleep potions just didn't seem to work, there wasn't any curse or spell on him, there was nothing wrong, if the numerous healers he'd visited were to be believed. But, when shadows took the streets and darkness claimed the world, he couldn't help but panic. He feared the moment he closed his eyes, knowing that the nightmares would fester upon him, as they had once done with his ex-godson. The endless dreams –an innocent Harry, demanding an explanation, despising him for what he had done, not even looking at him- threatened to drive him crazy. He hadn't had the rest of a good's night sleep for months now, he hadn't slept a single night without waking bathed in cold sweat, hunted by the nightmares.

And that night wouldn't be any different...

He was at the gates of Azkaban, Harry had just been declared guilty and condemned to life imprisonment in the magical prison, in a high security cell. Ten dementors would guard his cell. Nobody had ever lived longer than two days in that conditions without turning mad, and in the faces of his friends it was evident that they knew. Next to Sirius, a enraged Ron glared at Harry. The redhead had managed to become an auror in his sixth year, as had done Hermione, vouched by and helped along by the Order of the Phoenix. To his left was the bushy-haired witch, her eyes filled to the brim with tears, not able to look at the boy she had learned to love as a brother.

To his right was Hogwarts' Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, looking at Harry with disappointment and compassion in his gaze. His pale blue eyes had lost their sparkle, and seemed to accuse the boy who had once been his pupil.

In representation of the Ministry of Magic were the pleased Fudge and Umbridge, there to make sure the proceedings were carried without a problem.

Harry turned around and looked at him in the eyes, just before entering Azkaban. He had made sure Sirius never had to return to the damned place, demonstrating his innocence, and he had to do now what his godfather had had to so many years ago; enter the prison, in life imprisonment. Sirius would never forget that gaze, between hurt and furious, stunned, that seemed to ask "why?".

It always started with that memory, the night in which Harry was taken to Azkaban.

And then it turned worse, much worse.

Many months and years had passed since that night, the night in which Harry had been condemned, while they did nothing to prevent it. The Wizengamot, thanks to some new evidence, had revised Harry's case, surprising everybody with the resolution: innocent.

Sirius and Dumbledore had volunteered to fetch Harry from Azkaban, as soon as possible.

The very moment they entered the prison the cold of the dementors penetrated them to their bones, bringing with it horrible and hurtful memories better left forgotten. As they walked towards his godson's cell, the cold seemed to turn harsher, deeper, stabbing his chest with a gelid iciness that made breathing most difficult.

'Harry…' he muttered. Harry had trusted him, and he had betrayed him.

He was the traitor, the one who had given away a defenceless boy without stopping for a moment to doubt, without asking himself a single question, blindly trusting in his guiltiness...only because he had seen him. Just as he had been seen, so long ago.

They stopped at last in front of a big, metallic door. Touching it with his wand, Dumbledore muttered '_Patefacio-foris_'.

Slowly, screeching loudly, the door opened, revealing a filthy narrow cell, bare except for a thin cot and a hole in the floor. On the cot, laying on his stomach, was a boy, skeleton-thin and extremely pale. His hair, wild and covered in caked dirt, fell down his back, hopelessly tangled. The robe was torn, barely covering the battered body.

'Harry...? Harry, we're here to take you out of Azkaban.' he muttered, trying to wake him up desperately. No, it couln't be...

His emerald eyes, now glazed, empty, struck in him.

It was too late, Harry would never get out of that prison...Azkaban had killed him.

He caressed softly his messy hair, trying to tame it, his face covered in tears.

He would never look at his godson in the eyes and ask for forgiveness...forgiveness for doubting him, for never lifting a finger to help him...for betraying him, for failing him.

'Azkaban has killed him…my Harry, my little one…' he muttered, torn by the gilt that was furiously eating him away. The sobs racked his body as he hugged the dead corpse that was once his godson. 'No...not my little prongs, no...'

A voice from his back sent shivers through his body.

'It wasn't Azkaban, godfather. You all killed me. You killed me.'

'Harry?' the body in his arms was that of his godson, but, somehow, he was also in front of him. His face was contorted in a hard, harsh expression he had never before seen in him. His face seemed to be carved in marble; his body, lean and strong, was easily revelled by a black and silver robe. His hair, short and wild, was styled just as James used to do his hair. Some distant part of his brain registered the thought that Dumbledore wasn't there anymore, but he didn't care about the old man. He had before him the body of his godson, just as he could have been if Lily and James hadn't...and his face, it was so full of hatred...

'Don't ever call me that again.' His youthful face contorted in a disdainful sneer. 'It's Potter to you, Black.'

'Harry, I...' sobbed Sirius, shaking, only to be cut by him.

'I haven't come this far just to listen to your pathetic excuses, Black. I ring a message from James Potter. And I must say I never thought my father could be so cruel when he's angry.' he said, a gruesome smile gracing his lips, delighting in the effect his words had on the ex-convict.

'James? But, that's impossible, Prong's death…' "And so are you" he thought, looking at his godson.

'Not anymore. Death isn't unalterable, Black...surely my dear grandpa has taught you as much, hasn't he?

Black paled. He was, once more, the sick skeletal prisoner who once inhabited Azkaban, a mere specter of his former self.

Harry, seeing his face pale beyond his usual chalk-white color, chuckled.

'Yes, my beloved grandfather, Black. I know who he is. Lets concentrate on the message, right? I don't want to suffer your presence anymore than I have to.' With a graceful movement he extracted a red orb from his robes. He pressed it gently and let it float from his hand. The orb started glowing and from it came a voice he knew well. 'You are no longer welcome between the Marauders. Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black are therefore declared traitors of the worst kind. I withdraw custody from my son, Harry James Potter, from Sirius Orion Black, in favour of Remus Lupin.' Recited the recorded voice in monotone. It then became threatening, full of hate, and a shiver travelled down the ex-prisoners body. 'Black, If you ever come close to my son, if I ever see you again, I promise you, I will kill you. Slowly, and painfully.'

Tears flooded the animagus' eyes, and something inside him tore, waves of pain rocking his body. James, Lili...and now Harry…he had failed them all.

The corpse Sirius held in his arms suddenly moved. His eyes, a washed out green, screamed in pain.

'Godfather...you killed me...I trusted you, I risked my life for you...and you didn't even try to believe in me, to ask for evidence, for veritaserum, for a real trial...I risked the dementor's kiss for you...and yet you sent me to Azkaban without even asking...who is the traitor, Black?'

'I'm dying.' Said the other Harry dispassionately, kneeling by his side and tracing the other's lightening-shaped scar with his finger, in a loving caress. 'I'll soon die, Black, and you will all follow me, because there will be no one to face Voldemort. And to think,' he continued, with a bitter smirk 'that if you had taken a couple of hours more to arrest me, just one hour or two more, I would have killed that bastard...the one that is going to destroy those who condemned me.' He muttered, venom filling his words.

'Yes, Padfoot.' Corpse-Harry's tone was cold too, more similar to a rasping last breath than to real hate, but still chilling cold. 'I was going to kill my last family in this World, just because I thought…I thought that with you as my family I would'n need that snake...'

'As you see, I was wrong.' Continued the other, waving his hand in direction of his dying self.

He pierced his his eyes with his own, tear-filled, accusing eyes.

'Who is the traitor, godfather? Who is the traitor?'

Sirius woke up, his heart beating wildy in his chest, soaked in cold sweat. He couldn't take his mind off his godson's disdainful stare, the hate in his once best friend, Harry's lifeless corpse, coming back from the dead to torment him.

He glanced at his alarm clock. It was three a.m, and he wouldn't fall asleep again.

------------------

**R&R?**


	3. Albus Dumbledore

Story: Betrayed

Summary: Harry is accused of murder and condemned to Azkban. And even if he dies in that filthy hole, he'll get his revenge on those who backstabbed him. As a specter what remains ofhis spirit leaves Azkaban with the fall of night to torment those who betrayed him.

The author of the fanfiction is Akasha Sorvolo Riddle. (Yeah, I've got her permission to post it!)

I've translated it from Spanish myself, so there'll probably be some mistakes.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Despite evidence of the contrary, I'm alive. As I hadn't been writing anythig, I decided to catch up with my translations.

Hope you enjoy it!

* * *

**Albus Dumbledore**

**.**

Dumbledore took a lemon drop from the bowl on his desk with shaking hands. Feeling relieved he unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth, enjoying the brief respite that simple act caused him.

He once more checked his wards and making sure to put up a privacy barrier he let himself relax at last. Feeling comforted he let the glamour he had been using to hide the paleness of his face and the deep rings under his eyes fall. He wasn't about to show it, but those _dreams_ were driving him mad. It wasn't that he felt guilty –he had only done what had to be done, even if Harry couldn't understand that- but it had been weeks since he last managed a restful night of sleep. Every time he closed his eyes the young wizard's accusing face came to him, as if summoned, and dedicated his time to recriminate him during long, interminable hours. And so he woke, as tired as he had been when we went to sleep, or even more exhausted.

He could not let the others know of his weakness, and that forced him to cast glamour upon glamour, which was slowly mining his energy. Between one thing and the other, he was on the verge of collapse.

With a tired sigh he pinched his nose, wishing the weariness which pounded on his temples, giving him a terrible headache, would just disappear.

Him being none the wiser, his eyelids, which had been turning heavier with each breath he took, slided shut, and little by little he was drawn into Morfeo's arms...

.

Harry, as had become usual, was sitting on a rock on the floor. At his side was his sofa, an accurate replica of the one sitting on Albu's study, and beside it a small coffee table with the trademark tea set and a red bowl full of lemon drops.

Around them the fog seemed alive, curling over the bleak landscape, like a monster of enormous proportions ready to strike, drawing shapes over the few blackened trees still standing and giving them, if possible, an even more phantasmagorical appearance.

Immediately he felt the cold creeping up his feet to find its home in his chest, from where it would spread to the rest of the body, chilling him to the bone.

This time, Harry wasn't even looping at him. His vacant gaze was lost in the horizon, watching with eyes unseeing the foggy spirals while his mouth, almost mechanically, formed the words with which his... dream always started.

'You were one of the worst. You not only left me to defend myself, after having manipulated me all this years, after using me as your precious weapon, carelessly playing with my life and feelings in a complicated web I only now begin to unravel; you even dared testify against me. Said that I was turning into a Dark Wizard, powerful, unstable, dangerous! After all, I was just following the path you had drawn for me.' The words, which had started as a murmur, little by little rose in volume, until Dumbledore had to consciously stop himself from covering his ears.

'Did you have fun watching as the Dursleys scorned me? Did you unwrap one of your beloved lemon pops while you formulated just the best way to control me? To make me love you as a benevolent grandfather?' He growled, this time with true rage, twisting the words until the come out in some kind of guttural howl.

His voice quietened again, and he once more spoke dispassionately, in the cold, impersonal tone he had started with.

'So many lies…I guess in the end, that's what it boils down to, right? Little pieces in your chessboard, with no more importance than the role played in your next move. And that muddled excuse of the Greater Good. Unfortunate hopes to draw a complex tapestry with the threads you on your own unraveled from our lives. Do you truly think that, once you step back and watch this whole mess from another perspective, as if by work of magic, there will appear another image, greater, perfect, in which this will all fit seamlessly?' He asked, hatefully hurling his words at the Headmaster, mocking him. 'Your tapestry is woven in chaos, in pain and fear, in lies. It is swiftly unraveling under your watchful eyes, and there is nothing you can do to stop it.'

Dumbledore barely managed to hold back a shiver as the space around them shifted, mirroring the feelings and emotions the young man was describing so chillingly.

'And the thing that infuriates me the most is your holier-than-thou attitude, your whole "you disappoint me, Harry, you should be ashamed of yourself". "Search for the right path, try to redeem yourself, I forgive you". Do you think **I** will ever forgive you? You clearly underestimate the legacy I get from Voldemort.' Dumbledore chocked on his tea, which in a brave attempt to feign normality he had started sipping. 'Oh, yes, I know everything about your little precious secret; I'm Tom Riddle's freaking grandson, yadayadayada. Maybe I should have seen him as a grandfatherly figure instead, huh? But no, for some stupid reason I did as my Gryffindor side demanded... I should have listened to the side of me the hat wanted to place in Slytherin, think about my own gain, look out for myself, don't let anyone use me, be the manipulator and not the manipulated. For some stupid standard of Gryffindor suicidal courage I decided to be the freaking Saviour of the Wizarding World. I spent months training, exhausted till I could move no more, brushing death more than once. I was at last ready to confront the bastard who killed my parents, and you, idiotic, moronic useless bureaucrats of the Ministry of Magic put me under arrest and condemned me. You took me to a slow, painful, certain death when this all could have been avoided by using just three tiny drops of veritaserum.'

'And now you want me to save you? Not a snowball's chance in hell. I will have my revenge, and I will die, and I will leave you to this war, my blood tainting your hands, an innocent man condemned by his friends, by his mentors and family.'

He stood silent for a couple of minutes, enjoying the burdened look, however slight, that now adorned Dumbledore's features.

'Honestly, I miss the school. Back at Hogwarts, if you were back stabbed, you knew it had been the work of a Slytherin. Now, well, those most likely to stab you in the back are those who swore to fight by your side.

With a flowing gesture of his hand the fog surrounding them slowly lifted, and they were able to see the deep precipice running just a couple of meters to their right. In the field below them a vicious fight was taking place, bathed in blood, screams of pain the only sound reaching their ears.

'Look at your work, Dumbledore. Observe the world you have created all on your own. You have destroyed the Wizarding's World last hope of salvation; putrefaction will take over and we will all rot, and not even our corrupted bones will be left to cry over; everything will be devastated down to its very foundations. Contemplate your masterpiece, Headmaster. Why don't you take a lemon drop? The wait won't be long…'

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Ok, it took me a loooong while to translate this one, but between one thing and the other I never seem to have time to translate. Yo can check how I'm doing with my fics on my profile. Cheers!


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